Acceptance
by femmequeen
Summary: When Rita faints at work, Connie finds it hard to keep her emotions as secret as their relationship. Freechamp one shot.


The feud between surgeons and their colleagues, perhaps, was due to a surgeon's overwhelming sense of control. A patient's diagnosis would be made by a doctor, their care given by a nurse, and their consciousness taken by an anaesthetist. The most time a patient would spend with their surgeon would be under a drape of surgical blue fabric, amongst a tangle of wires and tubing weaved over iodine-stained flesh. There were no tears, arguments or battles of will – in theatre, a surgeon is omnipotent. Every instrument would be passed to their demand and, all being well, even blood would only be drawn by their hand.

It was losing this control that had shocked Connie the most about A&E – and especially resus. Her position as a consultant on Darwin was almost leisurely in comparison – with its timetables running like clockwork, and anything major being meticulously planned in meetings by a panel of talented medics. Darwin ran like a well-oiled machine, and anything that threatened its routine would have to be approved by the upper-echelons of management before it was allowed to interfere.

Here, however, there were no consent forms. There was only the fear in people's eyes when they saw their own blood, when their heart faltered, and when the room began to fade from their vision that gave everyone in this department permission to save a life. In their precious final seconds of consciousness, regrets would be shared, apologies uttered and love admitted. It was a common occurrence, bordering on routine, yet it struck Connie deeply now that she had a love she was afraid to leave behind.

Her latest patient had been stabbed, and they were desperately trying to stem to blood seeping from his abdomen at an alarming rate. Connie's cool exterior was unyielding, but her heart had started beating fiercely when she entered the room, and by the time Dixie had finished reciting the necessary numbers and medications, she could feel the adrenaline coursing through every vein. It always did. It proved that she cared.

Her gloves and scrubs turned scarlet, but the source of the bleed remained elusive. Her peripheral vision, perhaps subconsciously alarmed, betrayed her, and she was suddenly all too aware of the blood pooling around her heels. Connie grimly noted the irony of wearing her red-soled Louboutin's to work. They were the prize of every successful operation she had performed, a testament to her skill which had saved thousands of lives, yet here seemed to be on the verge of being distasteful.

She looked up from her work to request more blood. She shouldn't have, really. It was never wise to tear your gaze from a critically ill patient when you were taking the lead, and the impolite gesture of refusing eye contact would be forgiven by her colleagues considering the situation – but she was acutely aware that the love of her life was watching her every move from the other side of the room. She locked eyes with her, and Rita smiled in encouragement. Connie's eyes snapped back to the abdomen she was meant to be suturing. The non-verbal exchange must have lasted for less than a second, but happiness had already begun replacing the fear and uncertainty which had begun to manifest with the treatment of such a serious injury, and Connie realised why she had looked up – she needed to.

The same rush of endorphins was the reason she loved being the first one to wake up in the morning. She would open her eyes to sleep-tousled blonde hair, and an expression so serene her heart would skip a beat. A faint smile, given genuinely in the haze of sleepiness, would often take its place when Connie pulled their bodies closer until the alarm inevitably called them both to work. She did, at least never start her shift in a bad mood any more.

* * *

Being assigned to the same patient was a rare occurrence, and that fact was a blessing when it came to acting the part of each other's nemesis – but when they were, Rita truly loved the opportunity to watch her girlfriend work. Of course, medicine was not the most romantic choice in career – it was messy physically, and emotionally if they didn't get the results they desired – yet Connie looked quite charming in her element.

It was the sense of her complete caring that struck a chord in Rita's heart quite profoundly. Connie took undeniable pride in her appearance, but she would let wisps of hair escape her immaculate bun with the effort of her CPR. She could startle staff back to work with the familiar click-clack of heels without breaking a leisurely stroll, but she would never let herself be the last one through the doors of resus. She was sure in her commands, her voice always steady, but her eyes were wide with worry.

The last point would be difficult for anyone else in the room to identify, but Rita had seen the same expression directed at her. She had once cut her finger whilst cooking, and the startled yelp had barely escaped her lips before Connie had jumped to her feet to inspect the wound with the same worried visage. She had immediately gone to find the first-aid kit, ignoring Rita's sarcastic reminder that she was more than qualified enough to bandage a minor laceration, and treated her with such care and reverence that Rita was rendered speechless – to see the infamous Mrs. Beauchamp, often scathing with her words, so gentle in this act. When Connie was satisfied with her work, she had placed a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist, which had simultaneously made Rita's pulse flutter and the pain melt away.

Generally, Rita was aware that she had an influence over Connie. Sometimes, the evidence was small – she would pause before entering her office, or the lift to attend an important meeting, and direct a subtle smile in her direction before continuing with her business. Sometimes, it was a lot harder to ignore – she would hover around the nurse's station looking for an important file, but standing too close for Rita to keep her breathing steady. Connie would then opt for a nearby file, and press her body against Rita's when reaching for it causing unnecessary, yet completely intoxicating contact. The blush would stain Rita's cheeks for hours.

In fact, they often had to combat these obvious acts of affection with acts of equal dislike to avoid suspicion. Connie would snap at Rita, seemingly losing her temper over disorganised files, unprofessionalism and slow practice, and Rita would snap at Connie over short-staffing, targets and the treatment of nurses. On a particularly stressful shift, they had been at each other's throats – leaving them both noticeably irritated. That was until Connie had summoned Rita to her office in the midst of an argument and, after closing the blinds, had immediately pinned Rita to the wall and kissed her, a slow and searing kiss, without a word. A few nurses had offered a sympathetic smile when she left the office dazed, assuming she had undergone a caustic lecture. Rita had avoided eye-contact, for she was sure her flushed expression would rid them of any ignorance.

The truth was, no one was allowed to know of their relationship. Not yet, anyway. There would be rumours, tales and she sure as hell didn't want to explain how she had ended up sleeping with the ice queen.

The thought of being discovered, and the problems it would cause, swirled around in her head. She became unpleasantly aware that she hadn't managed to eat before her shift, which had started hours ago, and resus was hot from the frantic half an hour spent trying to save this patient's life. Black spots had begun to invade her vision, and she felt unsteady as she started to leave.

"Excuse me, sorry. I just need to …"

The sensation had taken her by surprise, and she barely managed to take a couple of steps before she fainted.

* * *

"Is she okay?!"

Connie had looked up to criticise the commotion in the room as she was finalising her procedure, but when she realised it was Rita on the floor she had to fight the urge to leave her patient mid-suture. If no-one answered her in the next few seconds, she thought she still might break her Hippocratic Oath.

Zoe, who had been observing in case the patient deteriorated, was kneeling on the floor – her arms around the blonde nurse who had begun to regain consciousness, and was starting to mumble an apology.

"She fainted. I'll take her to a cubicle."

She looked up for some kind of approval from the Clinical Lead, but she didn't get it. In this moment, Connie couldn't pretend that she didn't care. Her expression was desperate when it should be neutral; her hands were motionless when they should be suturing; her feet were poised as though she wanted to do nothing other than run over. The team she was working with stared, confused by her reaction, and one doctor even bravely called her name as if to bring her back to reality. The gesture was futile, for Connie had lost what she valued most, her professionalism, because she now valued something more – Rita.

Perhaps the similarity of their situations, a secret relationship, had sparked a connection, and Zoe had realised what was happening. Perhaps the uncharacteristic lapse in control had merely prompted an indisputable concern for the patient with an open abdomen. Either way, Connie was given the way out she so desperately desired.

"Let me take over" Zoe offered, quickly. "He's not critical any more, and you're probably due a break by now."

There was time to protest, to salvage the part of the impenetrable and harsh reputation she had lost, but Connie didn't really want to. When she looked towards Rita being escorted from the room, seemingly embarrassed but otherwise unaware of the situation, her carefully constructed prestige seemed trivial. The devotion she felt to the nurse that had stolen her heart was evident, and she immediately snapped the bloody latex gloves off her hands. She whispered quietly to Zoe before leaving.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it" was Zoe's pointed reply, though she was careful not to question the situation any further in front of so many people.

Connie swiftly exited the room in search of Rita.

* * *

"I can't believe I fainted" Rita moaned, covering her face with her hands. She was most mortified that it had happened during a complicated patient. "It wasn't the blood. I just forgot to eat."

"You've worked in a hospital for years. I wasn't about to assume you fainted at the sight of blood" Robyn remarked, passing her a cup of tea. "You should take care of yourself, though. Or, face the wrath of Mrs. Beauchamp when you dare suggest that staff need breaks."

Robyn's smile was quickly erased when she heard Connie's voice from behind the curtain.

"Rita?"

Rita reached forward to draw the curtain with too much enthusiasm to keep her emotions ambiguous.

"Connie" she said with a smile, which she hastened to correct under Robyn's questioning stare. "Aren't you supposed to be in resus?"

"Doctor Hanna has it under control. I needed to make sure you were okay." She glanced warily at Robyn, and steeled her gaze considerably. "You are a valued member of staff, after all. Thank you, nurse. I can take it from here."

Rita had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing at how smoothly she had covered up any hint of affection. Robyn nodded at her dismissal, and drew the curtain behind her as she left. Under the shroud of privacy, Connie quickly reached out to gently caress Rita's jaw.

"What happened, darling?" she asked softly. "Are you hurt?"

Rita leant into Connie's hand, revelling in her touch which was so forbidden whilst they were at work.

"I'm fine, honestly. I fainted, but I feel a lot better now."

Connie frowned, but didn't push for a different answer. Instead, she moved to close the gap between them. With Rita sitting on the edge of the bed it was easy for Connie to stand in front and pull her into an embrace, her head resting comfortably on her chest.

"I was so worried" she whispered, and leant down to kiss her temple softly.

Rita smiled, and wrapped her arms around Connie's waist, pulling her closer and breathing in deeply. The smell of her perfume was so comforting, especially now.

Sometimes it didn't feel real that they, the most unlikely couple, were together. If she woke up in the middle of the night, Rita would work her way through every sense to make sure she wasn't lost in a dream. She could see the dark hair cascading on the neighbouring pillow. She could reach over and hold her, and feel Connie shift sleepily to hold her back. She could taste the kiss on her lips, and she could hear the whispered "I love you" before her girlfriend settled back down to sleep. It was always the sweet smell of perfume and shampoo that comforted Rita enough to follow suit.

She snapped out of such content thoughts when she had a realisation.

"Did you leave your patient to find me?"

Connie remained silent, but leant back slightly in order to make eye contact, and raised her hand in order to twirl a lock of Rita's hair around her finger – an indication that she was contemplating an answer rather than ignoring the question.

"Yes, and I would leave any patient if you needed me" she said, finally. "I don't know if that makes me a bad doctor, but not knowing if you were okay made me realise I love you too much for anything to happen to you."

Rita was taken aback by the honesty of her phrasing. As a nurse she was unshakeable, and had the words to make any situation better. She could comfort, she could joke, and she could emphasise – but here she was almost speechless, save from one expression that seemed to be the only one she could utter.

"I love you too, Connie."

And before she could reply, Rita grabbed her shirt and pulled her into a deep kiss. Connie responded immediately, and arched her body forwards whilst letting her hands wander through Rita's hair. They were dangerously close to being discovered – only a thin curtain between their relationship being a secret, or being exposed. Rita wrapped her arms around Connie's shoulders, bringing them closer still. Let them be discovered, she thought. Could anything else be more important that this?

* * *

 **This is my first fanfiction, so reviews are definitely welcome (and, honestly, encouraged)**

 **Also; thank you for all the lovely comments ( & prompts) on tumblr - it means so much! **


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